


Messenges and Bribes

by majesticmcold



Series: Fili Friday Prompts [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticmcold/pseuds/majesticmcold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of my King Fili AU. </p>
<p>Fili has been ruling comfortably for a while now, well aware of the whispers from the south. It was only a matter of time before Mordor made contact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Messenges and Bribes

**Author's Note:**

> We are actually given dialogue from this event in Gloin’s recount during the Council of Elrond, but I didn’t really want to copy down what had already been written, so this is my version of events.

‘My King! A messenger from Mordor!’

Fíli sat up in his chair, the trade documents in his hands forgotten. He fixed Glóin with a sharp look.

‘Mordor?’ Kíli whispered, giving his brother a worried look.

_They have come._ ‘There is only one?’

‘Yes.’

Fíli and Kíli exchanged glances. They nodded at each other. ‘Bring them in to the throne room,’ Fíli commanded, standing. ‘The trade can wait; I’m sure King Brand will understand.’

The messenger was already waiting on the bridge-like platform when Fíli and Kíli arrived. In the time of Thrór, the throne would have been glowing with the Arkenstone, but no longer; Fíli had ordered it be buried with Thorin. An empty groove was the only visible evidence that it had ever existed.

 

Fíli sank onto the throne. Kíli stood on his right side, a hand resting on the pommel of the sword belted at his waist – a precaution he took before letting Fíli go anywhere.

The messenger was hooded and cloaked, its identity indiscernible. Two dwarven guards stood on either side of the messenger, as was their duty, but they were repulsed to be so close to a product of Mordor.

‘You are King under the Mountain?’ The voice was low and harsh; Fíli couldn’t tell if it was human or orc.

‘I am,’ Fíli replied. He was not wearing his crown. ‘Why have you come here, messenger of Mordor?’

‘For long, my master has been interested in the grand dwarven halls of Erebor.’ The voice had changed – it was a lot smoother now. Fíli made sure to keep his face blank, but he knew the messenger was attempting to sway him through flattery and other ways of speech.  _Perhaps it has not dealt with many dwarves before if it thinks it will persuade me that way._

‘It is known throughout the lands as one of the greatest kingdoms in Middle-Earth. As it should be, for the skill and prowess of dwarves are renowned. My master would hate to see that be compromised.’

‘What do you ask?’

‘An alliance.’

Kíli flinched, but Fíli rose a hand to prevent any interruptions.

‘An alliance between the kingdom of Erebor, and the armies of Mordor. You will have our protection. Working together, we could make this kingdom rise higher than it ever has before!’

Fíli smiled. ‘We dwarves prefer to dig deep, rather than fly high.’

‘Of course.’

‘What do you ask in return?’

‘Very little at all.’ There was a smile in the voice now. ‘We only ask that you tell us what you know … concerning hobbits.’

_Bilbo._ The amicable, jolly hobbit materialised immediately in the forefront of his mind. Fíli hadn’t seen Bilbo Baggins for a good few decades – which was nothing to a dwarf – but somehow Fíli had the feeling that this concerned his old friend.

‘We would also ask your help in locating a ring.’

‘A ring?’ Kíli spoke up, his face scrunched in suspicious confusion.

‘A trifle, the least of all rings, but one that my master fancies. If you would be able to do that for us, my master will return three Rings of Power that belonged to the Dwarf-Lords, as a token of his gratitude. Your birthright, as I believe your ancestor Thráin was the last to possess such a ring.’

_I have had enough talk of birthrights._

‘Not only that, but Moria will be yours forever.’

Something twisted Fíli’s stomach. Balin, Óin and Ori had left with a small company of dwarves to recolonise the mines of Moria. They did so against Fíli’s advice – after Erebor, he believed they were pushing their luck – but Balin refused to listen.

That had been almost twenty years ago. They had not returned, and there had been no word from Moria. Fíli had hoped that any message Balin had attempted to send had been intercepted on the road, but he knew that hope was thin. The way the messenger of Mordor spoke confirmed Fíli’s fears.

‘And if I refuse?’

‘Then things will … not seem so well.’

Fíli stood. His face was stern and his eyes were hard. ‘Then I’m afraid that is something we will have to risk. I refuse your offer of an alliance.’

The messenger hissed, but bowed. The gesture was a mockery. ‘Do it freely, knowing that death and destruction will come down on your people.’

‘Durin’s Folk has survived a dragon and exile. We have long memories; we know what happens when things don’t seem so well. And we will be prepared.’ Fíli nodded at the guards. ‘Escort him to the gates.’

Fíli and Kíli watched as the messenger left the halls. There was a different atmosphere now; they knew that war would soon be upon Erebor.

‘I’ll send word to Dáin in the Iron Hills,’ Kíli spoke.

Fíli nodded. ‘Thranduil must also be notified. And I will go to Dale to speak with King Brand. Talk of this ring … it fills me with dread.’

‘The enemy seeks Bilbo. Why?’

‘For that, I have no answer.’ Fíli sighed. ‘But perhaps someone else will. Glóin?’

The staunch dwarf moved forwards.

‘I want you to journey to Rivendell. Consult with Lord Elrond. Middle-Earth is stirring. Even in our little corner of the country, we will be affected. Especially since I have just denied Sauron,’ Fíli muttered. ‘Tell Lord Elrond of what has transpired here, and seek his advice.’

‘Aye, my King. I will go, and take my lad Gimli with me.’

Fíli put a hand on Glóin’s shoulder. ‘Stay safe, my friend, and travel well.’

Glóin nodded, repeating the gesture. He bid farewell to Kíli, then departed. The royal brothers watched him go anxiously. There was a special bond between the dwarves of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, and while Fíli cared deeply for each dwarf under his command, the thought of anything befalling any of those twelve dwarves hit him especially hard.

‘What of Balin, Óin and Ori?’ Kíli asked.

‘There is nothing we can do for them,’ Fíli sighed.  ‘They knew what they were risking; we must expect the worst. There are long nights ahead of us, my brother. Long nights indeed.’


End file.
